


There are nights

by ElissaSeviev



Series: There's no place like home [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Max (mentionned), Romance, ansgt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElissaSeviev/pseuds/ElissaSeviev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were moments when she still couldn't let go of the guilt.<br/>There were moments when she still couldn' let anyone in.<br/>Anyone but Simon. Simon and his Star Wars' stories and Simon that laid beside her night after night to comfort her.<br/>Nightmares and fear can be overcome, so can be guilt.<br/>But there are nights when she still can't let anyone in.<br/>Anyone but Simon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are nights

_Clinging to me, like a last breath you would breathe_

_You were like home to me, I don't recognize the street_

_Please don't close your eyes, don't know where to look without them_

_Outside the cars speed by, I never heard them until now_

_I know you care, I know it has always been there_

_But there's trouble ahead, I can feel it_

_You are just saving yourself when you hide it_

_And I know you care._

 

 _  
_**I know you care - Ellie Goulding.**

 

**__________________________________________________**

 There are nights.

 

 **  
**Isabelle Lightwood doesn't do panic attacks. Actually, she doesn't panic at all, she just attacks (that is kind of her speciality, nobody ever sees it coming). Isabelle Lightwood is not frightened, nor shaken, Isabelle Lightwood is strong, and fierce and beautiful. Well, that is what most people think. After all, she needs to be strong and fierce and beautiful, she's the daughter of Maryse Lightwood, the only one really and with two - no, three - brothers, she needs to prove something. In fact she doesn't need to prove, she proves.

Her brothers were for a long time the only ones that really knew her. Sure, her parents know her, but not in the same kind of way. Alec knew how to comfort her, Jace trusted her with his life during battles since they were just kids, and Max looked up to her, even if it wasn't the same way he did to Jace, it still made her feel like the powerful warrior she was. 

And then Clary and Simon came. Clary and her brightness, the fire of her hair, the wit of her words - and for the first time, Isabelle had realized other girls weren't just for envy and fight, they could be for friendship and trust. And for the first time too, she realized mundanes weren't so bad, neither were vampires  - because Simon was good to her, in a way nobody else could ever be. He wasn't family, he wasn't a fellow Shadowhunter, he was just a dear friend that loved her for who she was, and not only for her long legs (even if well, yes, that was definitely a bonus). He wasn't afraid of her, but he saw how determined she was, while also seing the vulnerability hidden behind the deep dark eyes of the young Lightwood.

 

Curled up in a ball on her bed ; Isabelle Lightwood wishes he could be here with her, and in the same time hopes for him not to ever come, because she feels guilty enough.

She can't forget the small glasses of her little brother, the mildness in the way he hugged her, rarely, and the sarcasm and intelligence when he talked to his siblings and to adults, like he knew he was just smarter than them. She can't forget the focus on his face when he read his comics books, or how he loved to play with the little toy that once belonged to Jace - a little toy she kept and now hides against her mattress to hold on to when times are hard, and these days, times are always hard. 

She can't forget that, in some way,  _she killed him._ They can say whatever they want, she should have been the one with him when he died, she should have protected him, and she should have listened in the first place. 

Isabelle can't breathe, she can't breathe and she feels like her lungs are being torn apart inside her body, she feels like fire is slowly pouring in her throat, burning her chest and her stomach, and she can't even understand how the world can keep turning, how her heart can keep beating, how the stars she sees through the window can keep shining. Her vision is blurred as she's kneeling on the sheets, arms pressed against her chest, hands on the throat trying to find air, to find oxygen to live on, her ears are stinging and ringing, she's numb and yet  at the very same time, her skin and everything that makes her her feels like it's burning, burning and turning to ashes, as if flames were surrounding her.

Isabelle Lightwood wishes he could be here, in fact she wishes anyone could be here, she wishes anyone could fling the door open and rush to her and make her  _breathe_ , but she knows she's all alone, because they won't hear her. 

But then the door flings open and she watches Simon coming into the room in a swift movement, as silent as a shadow and still as fast and intense as a storm, her eyes wide-opened.  In two steps, the time of one inspiration that she's trying to take, he's beside her, the door is closed and he has a hand slighly set on her shoulder. She can't really see him because everyhing is a blur, but slowly, her ears stop ringing and she can hear what he says.

 

________________________________________________ 

_I used to run down the stairs_

_To the door and I thought you were there_

_Do you shape through the comfort of us_

_Two lovers loved out of love_

_Oh but I know you care_

_I know it has always been there_

_Yeah I know you care_

_I see it the way that you stare_

_As if there was trouble ahead and you knew it_

_I'll be saving myself from the ruin_

_I know it wasn't always wrong_

_But I've never known a winter so cold_

_And I still hope_

_That this is how the things ought to have been_

_'Cause I know you care._

________________________________________________

 

 

 _"_ izzie", he whispers against her hair, without touching her beside that one hand rubbing her arm like you rub a hurt child's, and she can't find the strength to push him away (plus, even if she doesn't want to admit it, it does feel comforting and warm and she can already breathe easier and, whether she likes it or not, she kind of is a hurt child), "Izzie, it's ok. Calm down. Izzie, look at me." 

There's determination in his tone, autority, and, little by little, she starts raising straighter and she can feel her lungs functionning again.  Isabelle Lightwood tosses her hair back and looks at Simon for the first time since he came in. 

He doesn't have a smirk on, he's not laughing at her, he just stares at her with mildness in his chocolate eyes, and  concern in his eyebrows slightly frown. He has dark, thick eyelashes, a bit like hers really, and she can't help that she suddenly wants him to hug her tight.

But Isabelle Lightwood does not do panic attacks. She doesn't panic, she attacks. 

Always. 

She can't offer to be soft, vulnerable, she can't offer to be  _weak_. Even for her little brother's death, even in front of Simon - sweet, warm, loving Simon that is always here for her even if she doesn't accept how much she wants him to be.

Isabelle Lightwood is a fighter, and fighters attack.

Wiping away her tears, the young woman looks at her friend right in the eye : 

"What are you doing here ?" she asks, "You shouldn't be here."

Isabelle looks at the room. Simon wasn't supposed to be able to get into the Institute, but they found a way. _(but that is too complicated to explain_ ). But bursting into her room wasn't a part of the deal. She knew it was just her pride speaking, but  _Isabelle Lightwood can not allow herself to be weak._ And she always thought that crying, panicking, was the exact definition of being weak.

"You needed me", he whispers, hesitant. "At least I felt like you did."

"I don't need you," is all she can pronounce because she knows it is a lie, and she can sense the bitter, sour taste on her lips and her tongue as she says it. 

There's hurt all over his face, as if she had betrayed him, as she had slapped him, there's hurt all over his face and it is like a million daggers in her own heart. Like stalactites being thrown at her to turn her into a human with a thousand holes in her heart. 

She takes a breath, slowly, paying for what she said with the fire everywhere in her body. She takes a breath, in, and out, in, and out. In. Out.

There were moments when she still couldn't let go of the guilt.

There were moments when she still couldn't let go of the guilt.

There were moments when she still couldn't let anyone in.

Anyone but Simon. Simon and his Star Wars' stories and Simon that laid beside her night after night to comfort her.

Nightmares and fear can be overcome, so can be guilt.

But there are nights when she still can't let anyone in.

She realizes that in the blink of an eye, and slowly, she sits beside him as he stares at her, startled. He doesn't move when she sets a hand on his, and a shiver runs over him when she puts her head on his shoulder, before nesting it in the crook of his neck.

 

________________________________________________

_All along it was a fever, a cold sweat hot-heated believer,_

_I threw my air in the hands, said : "Show me something"._

_He said "If you dare, come a little closer"._

_Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know._

_Not really sure how to feel about it, something in the way you move_

_Makes me feel like I can't live without you_

_It takes me all the way, I want you to stay._

_It's not much of a life you're living, it's not just something you take, it's given_

_Funny are the broken ones but I'm the only one who needed savin'_

_'Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving._

_I want you to stay._

**Stay - Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko**

________________________________________________

"I am sorry", she murmurs, pressing his hands under hers, "I didn't want to say that."

"It's ok. We'll be alright."

He knows he should be angry, hurt, offended, but Isabelle Lightwood is beautiful, and strong and fierce, and she doesn't apologize so he tastes that feeling on his tongue, the taste of forgiveness and warmth and home, like honey and gingerbread and vanilla - the same smell that hangs around in her hair, in her room, on her clothes. He lays down on the bed, holding her tight against him, her ear on his chest, at the exact place of his unbeating heart and the silence reassures her and calmes her down. He strokes her long hair that looks like black silk, soft between his fingers - the ones of his other hand are intertwined with hers on his torso. He can feel the tears that roll on her pale cheeks to end their course on his shirt. 

"I wish I could tell you how much I care," she whispers "but I can't."

"I can wait. And I can tell it for the both of us in the meantime."

She dries her tears, and raises her head up to look at him, waiting. He cups his hands around her chin and neck, whispering :

"I love you. You don't need to hide from me."

She gives him her brightest smile, the one Isabelle Lightwood keeps for the special occasions, and she holds him tighter, while he kisses her forehead. 

 

Being a shadowhunter isn't easy. It's hard, and painful, but she loves it.

And there are nights she can't keep up. She can't hide her guilt or her pain.

There are nights she can't be beautiful and strong and fierce (but for Simon she's always beautiful and strong and fierce).

 

She waits for him to be asleep and  straightens up, stroking his dark hair and caressing his face softly - Isabelle Lightwood can be fierce and soft. 

And then she whispers :

"I love you too. Don't go."

He presses her hand (he wasn't asleep after all) and finally, she falls asleep with the easiness of a fearless mind. 

There are nights when all is safe and sound.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ! I hope you enjoyed that :) Just finished it ! It's my first work on Archive of our own, but it is part of a series about The Mortal Instruments, and the texts will follow the same structure, each one focused on a relationship. I'm very sorry if there are any vocabulary or grammar mistakes, I happen to be french, so if you see one of them, please tell me in the comments below. Thank you for your interest and don't hesitate to gave me a feedback, constructive critics are always welcome !


End file.
